


Tacenda

by Val_Creative



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Female-Centric, Fluff, Forest Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Romance, Sister/Sister Incest, Soulmates, Vaginal Fingering, Veela, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-06-28 15:35:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15710133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: When they were happy together, everything wasbeautifuland visibly, colorfully glowing, purified in Veela glamour. Fleur's dazzling attraction did not overshadow Gabrielle, as Gabrielle's youthful, elegant veneer — they were perfectly balanced while together.





	Tacenda

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Wavesinger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Wavesinger/gifts).



> Thank you to the mods for hosting this event and I hope everybody enjoys reading! Thanks! <3

 

*

Fleur would dream constantly of her little sister during her final year of Beauxbatons.

No one else could emit a faint, silvery glow, just like her, while she wandered the majestic grounds of the chateau aimlessly, before glimpsing the delicate, pale slenderness of Gabrielle's wrist. It's the  _same_  dream, over, and over and over, with Fleur breathlessly chasing after her sister, running down a row of alabaster stone-steps. Her iris blue, silken night-robes billowed out around her, caught in an updraft of cool wind.

Morning sunlight, inviting and warm, peeked over the horizon. It hit the crown of Gabrielle's head, illuminating every silver-golden, curly strand, trapping the wondrous heat.

She danced near a large, alabaster-white fountain, kicking out her feet, twirling and lifting handfuls of her dress. It was a simple, fitted dress in red and gold damask, and satin that lined Gabrielle's bodice. Layers of transparent, scarlet-hued chiffon flew out around Gabrielle.

Gold and thickened glitter smeared around her eyebrows and Gabrielle's iris-blue eyes, as if it were running mournfully out of her tear-ducts, splattering onto her exposed collar and her dress.

Fleur never allowed herself to touch her in those dreams, unable to gain the courage to move forward when reaches of bright sunlight consumed and faded Gabrielle out of existence. She would wake in her dormitory, gasping for air and burrowing herself into her velvet, goose-feather pillows, wiping off the light sheen of perspiration on Fleur's own brow.

Winter eventually cast off its grey, snowy cloak.

Everything melted into a new spring full of meadowsweet-fragrance and lush, green woodlands near the less populated regions of French countryside. Fleur's childhood home stood there, gleaming and ornate and protected for many centuries. Her mother and father replaced the magical wards every so often, and sometimes Fleur thinks she  _felt_  the brimming, heavy presence of those enchantments.

Rose-blushing peonies bloomed in a vibrant, plentiful gusto, arranged to surround the outer, trimmed hedges leading to their family gardens, and the ancient-looking pavilion.

She saw Gabrielle race out from the main hall, her small, pale feet becoming dirtied with bits of grass and leaves, when she fiercely embraced a smile and gentle Fleur, weeping openly. Her little sister was no longer so  _little_  — a young woman by her own right, tall and willowy, her curves hidden by the loosened quality of her ivory-silk gown.

Fleur noticed the tiniest protrusion of Gabrielle's nipples, quelling the urge to brush her fingertips against the cloth,  _beneath_ , and to cherish her soft, lovely skin.

Her sister owned nothing of a scarlet,  _alluring_  nature. Gabrielle had the demeanor of a curious and heartfelt pupil, willing to absorb knowledge and transform it into something outstanding or useful for herself. She had nothing of Fleur's bluntness or inherent criticism for other people who were not her family.

_Courage_  — Gabrielle did not lack it.

She had kissed Fleur during the previous autumn, when they were left to preoccupy themselves in the northern orchard. Gabrielle's yellow and deliciously ripe apples tumbled out from the cradle of her apron, when she let go immediately, holding onto Fleur's cheeks with her soil-flecked nails and pressing her mouth against hers over and over, and over.

When they were happy together, everything was  _beautiful_  and visibly, colorfully glowing, purified in Veela glamour. Fleur's dazzling attraction did not overshadow Gabrielle, as Gabrielle's youthful, elegant veneer — they were perfectly balanced while together.

Immune.

Fleur believed so anyway.

Perhaps they could only be magnetized to each other, when all is said and done, irresistibly and powerfully. She could succumb to this realization, humming and traipsing through the undergrowth of the narrow, patchy forest on their lands, and finding her sister in the center.

Gabrielle lied upon a bed of old, brown leaves and vines, crossing her arms over a leathered and gilded tome resting to her bosom. Her eyes shut. Her petite, lavender ballgown torn and ruined, but no bruises or scratches or welts upon Gabrielle's pale, bare shoulders or her hands. Another tome rustled quietly next to her, its opened pages swaying in the warm, spring breeze.

It was a serene reverence — like one of her dreams come to life.

Fleur's iris-blue eyes drifted over the swelling of Gabrielle's breasts peeking out from her dress. She knelt down beside her, muddying her pair of expensive riding trousers, and dared to  _touch_. Fleur's long, willowy fingers traced over her sister's collarbone, memorizing the rigid, bony structure, and stroking briefly over the dip of her throat, making a path up to Gabrielle's chin.

She stirred from her nap, mumbling incoherently, only when Fleur pulled open the matching lavender ribbons to Gabrielle's corset, helping her sit up, whispering Gabrielle's name and removing it.

A slight, firm tug, and the puckered fabric covering Gabrielle's upper arms and her sternum fell away, allowing her younger sister to undress herself from stomach-up. Fleur praised her with delight, pecking Gabrielle's lips, flattening her palms against tiny, creamy-white breasts.

Gabrielle was  _heat_  and softness and low, keening noises, clutching onto her as Fleur's mouth sucked gently around one of her nipples, feeling it hardened against the rim of her mouth.

Softer and  _wetter_  where Gabrielle's thighs met, buried under the tulle and finery and perfumed cloth until Fleur located her mound, separating Gabrielle's legs and rubbing on her entrance in slow, tentative circles until Gabrielle's face turned a pure  _scarlet_. There's no amount of wealth or beauty that could compare to this — she would gladly abandon everything to feel this once more. How her little sister trembled and  _came_  around Fleur's middle and forefinger thrusting gently on her vaginal walls, her mouth widened in a silent-scream of pleasure.

Fleur coaxed her to take deep, steadying breathes, keeping her two fingers seated deep inside Gabrielle until she could sense her little sister relaxing her tender, quivering muscles and no longer squeezing like a vice, tugging out. It sounded like a moistened, sloppy  _pop!_  and Gabrielle cried out, hanging her head backwards and displaying herself further, bare chest heaving.

Her fingertips glistened, dripping with her sister's fluids, and clinging with an odor of musk.

The  _taste_  was far from what she imagined, but Fleur cannot conjure up any misdeeds in her mind, licking off and suckling what remains of Gabrielle's hot slick, absently moaning.

Nothing matters but  _her_.

*

 


End file.
